| Cold-blooded angels in blankets of ash
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| Alone in the southern pines
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| There’s a place in the garden
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| Where nothing will grow
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| But I could stay forever
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| Where I lay every night on the forest’s floor
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| Asleep with both eyes open
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| 'Cause I need that bitter hand
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| That struck me blind
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| To keep my eyes from closing
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| Pale as the rose or the shadow it throws
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| Over earth and sky
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| If the rocks in my pocket
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| Were cinder and stone
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| I’d owe it all to nothing
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| Wasted years on an empty road
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| Where flies buzz around my head
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| Now I miss the bitter hand
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| That cut me down
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| All the way to nothing
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| Wasted years on an empty road
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| Where flies buzz around my head
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| If the dust in my pocket
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| Was silver or gold
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| I’d spend it all on nothing
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| There’s something waiting at the door
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| I hear it breathing
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| I follow even though I’m sure
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| I should be leading
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| There’s something waiting at the door
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| I see it bleeding
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| Every time I ask for more
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| I can’t believe it
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| All I need was hanging 'round the door
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| I’m not sleeping anymore
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| 'Cause I remember every single word
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| Every little thing I can’t forget
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| Cold-blooded angels
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| Stop staring at the sky
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| We all pay a terrible price
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| When we learn to fly
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| And if I could forget you
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| Oh, how hard I tried
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| Please, somebody tell me
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| How the hell did I survive? |